


I Am Not There

by Brumeier



Series: Bite Sized Fic [81]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 00:32:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7244980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LJ Comment Fic for Running With Scissors prompt: <i>Stargate SG-1, Jack O'Neill, the sharp knife of a short life</i></p>
<p>In which Jack is never without the grief of loss for his son Charlie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am Not There

**Author's Note:**

> This also fills the _grief_ square on my shiny new h/c bingo card.

Jack used to like the onset of autumn: the crisp air, the changing leaves, the anticipation of Thanksgiving and football games and carving pumpkins. It was a fun time, with Halloween costumes and family gatherings and nature hikes.

Now autumn brought a feeling of dread.

Sara never understood why Jack didn’t visit Charlie’s grave. She went regularly, to leave flowers or just to talk. She said it made her feel closer to Charlie. But Jack had no interest in visiting his son’s bones, or reading the dates on the tombstone that were only eight years apart. He didn’t need reminders that Charlie’s life had been cut so short.

People liked to say the dash been birth and death dates on a tombstone represented the life that person lived, and all that they accomplished. But Charlie had only been eight years old. So for Jack it meant nothing more than missed moments. It was the baseball games Charlie never got to play in, and the prom he didn’t get to go to. It was college or military service or both. It was Charlie’s first love, and his first heart-break. That dash was everything he should’ve had but didn’t.

Jack didn’t need to visit his son’s grave to feel close to him. He carried Charlie with him, in everything he did. Sometimes the memories were sharp enough to add another gash to his heart, but for the most part the passage of time dulled the knife of remembrance and he was left with an ache that never quite went away.

He thought of Charlie every time he picked up a baseball. (“ _I caught it! I caught it!_ ”) 

He thought of Charlie every time he baited a fishhook. (“ _Does it hurt them, Daddy?_ ”)

He thought of Charlie every time he stepped through the Stargate onto another planet (“ _Do you have to go? Can I come too?_ ”) and every time he came home again (“ _I missed you, Daddy!_ ”)

Sometimes Jack could get through a whole day without a memory springing up on him, but then he’d be out somewhere and see a stranger and think, _Charlie would be that old now if he’d lived_. And the ache would be back stronger than ever.

Jack had wanted to die, once. When his negligence had cost his son’s life, it didn’t feel like there was a way to come back from that. But he had. He’d rebuilt his life, without Sara and without Charlie, and he’d found new purpose working with the SGC.

In Daniel, there was an echo of Charlie’s wide-eyed wonder and his big heart. In Sam, Charlie’s determination and self-confidence. Even in Teal’c there was something of Charlie, in his desire to do what was right.

Jack found a new family in his team, strong and united. They didn’t leave each other behind. They didn’t have to keep military secrets from each other. Their ties were forged in battle, in the wonderful and horrible things they’d seen. Jack missed Charlie a little less when he was with them.

But if he could bring Charlie back, if Jack could reverse time and stop Charlie from touching that gun, he’d give up his new life and everyone in it in a heartbeat.

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** Title comes from the poem _Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep_ , by Mary Elizabeth Frye:
> 
> Do not stand at my grave and weep.  
> I am not there; I do not sleep.  
> I am a thousand winds that blow.  
> I am the diamond glints on snow.  
> I am the sunlight on ripened grain.  
> I am the gentle autumn rain.  
> When you awaken in the morning's hush  
> I am the swift uplifting rush  
> Of quiet birds in circled flight.  
> I am the soft star that shines at night.  
> Do not stand at my grave and cry;  
> I am not there; I did not die.


End file.
